


In vino veritas

by SrebrnaFH



Series: Monday Fix-Its [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: The Tarmac Scene (Sherlock)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 18:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17329907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SrebrnaFH/pseuds/SrebrnaFH
Summary: After miscalculating the dose, Sherlock starts felling unbearable urge to just Tell John The Truth.Right there, by the plane, in full view of his brother and John's wife.Monday Fix-its is a series of one-shots (or two-parters) that take a piece of cannon BBC Sherlock and fix it so that JohnLock would happen. It won't necessarily happen IN the story, but it is the aim or each of these stories. HEA for our boys is the priority.





	In vino veritas

**Author's Note:**

> Not a very fix-y fix-it, but we have to remember he will be back in 5 minutes after that...
> 
> "In vino veritas" - "Truth is in wine" - drunkness engenders honesty.

He was feeling it more and more acutely. The pressure inside, pushing him to say things. To express himself. To finally tell them all. To shout it to the world and check their stupefied faces when they hear him.

He watched with bated breath as they all stepped aside.

Good.

After all, not everything has to be shared.

And there was the conflict that he felt deep within.

The delicate balance between finally telling everyone and keeping him safe.

Because she was there. Amongst the dark, menacing men, all sombrely clad in black, she was the bright point that pulled at his focus. The cardinal between ravens. But she was much more dangerous than a simple songbird. She had deeper... depths.

His brain was losing some of its complexity. That was interesting. The effects were coming much faster than he had expected. He had to hurry up, to get on the plane before anyone notices. To be away from these earnest blue eyes watching him now - he was _smiling_. Did he really not know...? No, he didn't. He wouldn't be standing here now, his hands clasped behind his back, watching him...

_Oh. Nodding. Confirmation, he doesn't know. Oh, brother, brother. What did we do? What did I do to deserve this?_

The man in front of him took a few strides, looking away, clearing his throat. Saying something.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes," he blurted out, suddenly. Surprising even himself.

_Defence against spilling too much. Some safety features still working despite the neurological impairment..._

Laughter. He revelled in it. He made John laugh, by just finally introducing himself properly. Well, referring to the baby, too. But John laughed and that was important, because all he wanted was to go with the memory of John's laughter fresh in his ears. He wanted to breathe his last knowing he made John Watson smile.

The pressure inside - not a physical one, but nevertheless overwhelming - had to be managed. John was supposed to be smiling. It was a good thing to keep in his Mind Palace. John smiling at him, just as if he had done something brilliant.

He didn't want John to be uncomfortable. No. He admitted openly that he had no idea what to say - but, yes, John was there, and he kept him speaking, and Sherlock had to talk, but he couldn't allow himself to say what that whining, pressing, annoying part of his brain wanted, so he redirected that - he told John about the East Wind. Not really what he deemed appropriate for such a farewell, but when had they ever been appropriate? Or normal, or usual? Not them.

Oh. John asked The Question. One thing that he made himself promise not to answer truthfully.

"Who knows?" was such a lousy escape, but most of his brain processing power was already taken by all the other tasks - staying upright, not falling apart, not...

He took his attention from that little part that controlled what he wanted and what he was allowed to say, just for a moment. He focused on keeping up the appearances and then found himself mid-sentence.

"...say it now," he swallowed, trying to stop that insidious little devil that, cranked up by the amount of drugs now coursing through his system, was apparently much faster than the angel on his other shoulder. Like in the cartoons he used to watch on a sly when he was a kid, where characters had a moral dispute with their angel and devil part - with angel usually losing - he now gave in to the darker side of the battle.

Mycroft always said "whatever you do, you will have to live with the consequences of it", well, no, he wouldn't. But he could take care to ensure that others weren't at risk due to his actions, so, turning slightly - because it wouldn't do to let that woman try to read his lips - he leaned closer to his doctor - his friend - his John.

"I love you," he declared in a husky voice. It felt _good_ to finally say it. It felt so good he almost gave in to the shiver of pleasure down his spine and nearly closed his eyes, nearly missed John's changing expressions - surprise, disbelief and - dare he say it - elation?

John's mouth fell slightly open and the gold in the middle of his blue - bluest - eyes shimmered as he raised his head.

"I - ah..." the doctor caught his breath spasmodically. "Oh, God, Sherlock."

But he was already walking away, legs threatening to give out at any second.

He had to get on that plane and stay awake until they took off.

He would be dead before they'd leave British airspace.

And the last thing ringing in his ears would be his name in John Watson's voice.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [my tumblr](https://srebrnafh.tumblr.com/).  
> [My writing blog.](https://fanfik.wordpress.com/)  
> [My handmade blog.](https://srebrna.wordpress.com/)
> 
> Edit (April 2019):  
> I am taking a writing course and one of the tasks is to ask my readers to describe my writing style in 3 adjectives. I'd be grateful if you could provide this kind of feedback :)  
> (if you provided it already somewhere else - THANK YOU! :))


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